The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

Isolde’s chambers were a study in calculated elegance.

This morning, she stood before her hand maid with an expression of absolute certainty.

”Listen carefully,” Isolde was saying, her voice pitched low but carrying absolute authority. ”What I’m about to ask you to do is important. Do you understand?”

”Yes, my lady,” Helena’ whispered, her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

”I need you to go to King Draeven’s office,” Isolde continued, moving closer to her maid. ”You’re going to tell the guard at the door that you have a message from me.”

Helena’’s eyes widened slightly.

”My lady, I....”

”Can you do that?” Isolde’s voice was soft, but underneath the softness was steel.

”Yes, my lady,” Helena’ said quickly. ”Yes, of course.”

”Good.” Isolde reached out and touched the girl’s cheek almost tenderly, though there was nothing tender about the gesture. ”If you do this correctly, I will reward you. A new dress. Extra coin. Whatever you desire. But if you fail me, if you don’t deliver this message exactly as I’ve instructed, if you somehow manage to botch this simple task...”

She let the threat hang in the air, unfinished but absolutely clear.

Helena’’s chin trembled slightly. ”I won’t fail you, my lady. I promise.”

”See that you don’t,” Isolde said, turning away from her maid. ”Now go. And remember....you are simply delivering a message. You are not nervous. You are not uncertain. You are confident, calm, and you know exactly what you’re doing. Can you manage that?”

”Yes, my lady,” Helena’ said, bowed and then walked out of the room.

Isolde watched her go, and a small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

She had no doubt that Helena’ would succeed.

She returned to her mirror and studied her reflection.

She looked beautiful this morning. Her golden hair was arranged perfectly, with small diamonds woven through the strands. Her skin was flawless. Her gown was one of her finest...a deep emerald that made her eyes appear almost jewel-like. She had taken great care with her appearance because she understood something that most young women her age did not: appearance was power. Beauty was a weapon. And she knew how to wield it.

She smiled at herself in the mirror, imagining Draeven’s reaction when he received her message. Perhaps he would come. Perhaps he would finally acknowledge that she existed, that she mattered, that she was worthy of a king’s attention.

She was going to make him notice her.

One way or another, she was going to make him see her.

***

Draeven’s office was exactly as it always was...organized, austere, the domain of a man who saw paperwork and administration as weapons of control just as much as armies were.

The First King sat at his desk, his golden eyes fixed on the documents before him. He had been working since before dawn, and the morning light now illuminated the space with soft amber tones. There was a cup of tea beside him, grown cold hours ago. There were papers stacked in careful piles, each one representing decisions that would affect hundreds or thousands of people.

This was the weight he carried. This was the burden of the crown.

A knock at the door interrupted his focus.

”Enter,” he called, not looking up.

The door opened, and Captain Rhen...the head of his personal guard, stepped inside. The captain was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with the bearing of someone who had spent his entire life in service.

”My King,” Rhen said, his voice professional and measured. ”Lady Isolde’s handmaid is here to see you. She says she brings a message from her mistress.”

Draeven looked up from his work, his expression unchanged. For a moment, he simply looked at his guard, and Rhen could not read anything in those golden eyes.

”Does she now,” Draeven said quietly. It was not a question.

”She seems nervous, Your Majesty,” Rhen continued. ”The maid, I mean. She’s been standing outside your door for the past few minutes, working up the courage to interrupt you.”

Draeven set down his pen slowly.

”Show her in,” he said.

There was something in his tone that made Rhen hesitate for just a fraction of a second. Something that suggested the king already knew what this message was likely to contain, and that he was not pleased.

But the captain simply nodded and withdrew, returning moments later with Helena in tow.

Helena’ entered the office as if she were walking through fire.

Her hands trembled slightly as she moved across the polished floor. Her breathing was shallow. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to flee, to turn around, to run back to the safety of the servants’ quarters where she belonged.

But she had her mistress’s threat ringing in her ears. So she pressed forward.

She reached a point roughly in the center of the room and performed a curtsy. It was respectful, though her legs shook so badly that she nearly lost her balance.

Draeven looked up from his desk, and for the first time, he really looked at her.

Helena felt that power hit her like a physical force.

”What does your mistress want?” Draeven asked quietly.

Helena’s mouth went dry.

She curtsied again...a nervous, jerky gesture, and then forced herself to speak.

”Your Majesty,” she said, and she was proud that her voice only shook a little, ”my lady asks that you show her your favor this night and visit her chambers.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

It stretched out, filled with a thickness that made the air itself feel heavy. Draeven did not respond immediately. Instead, he looked at the girl for a long moment, his expression unreadable, his golden eyes assessing.

Then, slowly, he looked back at the documents on his desk.

”Tell your mistress that I will not be able to do that,” he said, and his voice was perfectly calm and perfectly controlled ”Tell her to send any concerns she has through my guards or send an official meeting with my office.”